Shira Moolten

Articles

Canada Goose’s symbolism, not only of wealth and status but of wealth and status as requirements for acceptance to the larger Princeton social scene, feeds into both its popularity and its disrepute. The intensity to which wealth is ridiculed in these memes, memes often made and shared by Canada Goose owners themselves, also points to a layer of self awareness, or perhaps just hypocrisy.

No matter how many exams you have left, I urge you to take the time to savor something delicious. It might not be the most exquisite croissant in the world. It might not even be on on this list. Life is too short, and finals period is too long.

Appreciating beauty, from a bowl of blended fruit to the Big Dipper on a walk back to my dorm at night, has allowed me to escape from the constant pressures of a success-oriented culture. It has taught me that there is more to life than charging towards achievement after achievement, that I should take time to smell the flowers, or order the açaí bowl.

Last October, a group of four students entered the University’s first ever iteration of the Hult Prize competition, an international startup challenge with a focus on solving pressing social issues, an hour before the deadline, because the competition simply needed another team. They ended up doing so well that this year they will fly to Kenya to implement their plan.

For the Princeton students rushing by on their way to brunch, or the tourists hurrying to the cathedral, if there is something to gain from pausing to observe a seemingly miscellaneous group of people carve pumpkins together on a Saturday afternoon, it might just be a tiny bit more faith in human nature.

Went downtown with a friend. Witnessed: people group hugging on top of potted plants, people on poles, people on traffic lights. Fireworks thrown inches away from where we stood. The ubiquitous aroma of weed and alcohol. People throwing bottles. Young children standing with their parents. People hanging out of cars. Honking, endless honking. Many happy, crazy people.

In my first article for The Street, “Lost,” I wrote about getting and feeling lost on an early autumn campus shrouded in mystery, its trees still holding onto their leaves, everything full of promise. Now, as winter approaches, everything becomes familiar, shrouded in memory instead. “In the beginning, I got lost all the time,” Lucy Zhang ’21 in Mathey said to me recently over lunch. “Now, I can’t get lost even if I try to.”